


Jet Pack Blues

by Call_Me_Kiba



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abuse, Adam is alive, Amnesia, Amputation, Dehumanization, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fix-It, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Keith (Voltron) has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, M/M, Torture, allura is alive, im not sure how good this one will be, s8 didn't happen, s8 fix it, wound description
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2019-10-27 05:03:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17760287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Call_Me_Kiba/pseuds/Call_Me_Kiba
Summary: She's in a long black coat tonightWaiting for me in the downpour outsideShe's singing "Baby come home" in a melody of tearsWhile the rhythm of the rain keeps time





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mmmmmmmmmm I'm not sure how good this one will be. But have the sad. It's kinda choppy in the beginning, but it'll get better. I think.

“Why?”

 

“I can't. You know I can't.”

 

“No, I don't.”  _ I do. I do know and I'm sorry.  _ “Why are you doing this now? The wedding is in four days!”

 

“Shiro, I can't...I just- I just can't.”

 

“Then don't bother coming if you can't be happy for me.”

 

They never fought, not like this. Not with raw emotion and indifference and anger. Shiro glared as Keith looked anywhere but his face. Keith didn't understand why Shiro needed to do this. Shiro found someone that loved him. He thought Keith would at least be happy for him and Curtis. His feelings for Keith were just a passing thing.

 

Denial never looked good on Takashi Shirogane.

 

Shiro turned, walking away and leaving Keith standing in the start of a downpour. 

 

He didn't hear the weak and broken  _ “I love you”  _ as he got into his car and drove back to the Garrison.

 

\------------------------------

 

“I can't believe he wouldn't show up.” Lance grumbled as he fixed Shiro's tie. “What a jackass. I'll give him a piece of my mind for you, dude. He can't hide forever.”

 

Shiro said nothing, staring somewhere past Lance. He had a nightmare the night before, of pain and his fists connecting with a body under him. Of burning flesh and a desperate plea of “I love you!” that echoed in his mind. His memories from the clone were fuzzy, but that one would always be in vivid detail. Of Keith's terror etched into his face, the pain. Shiro was making the right decision. Keith could do better than him.

 

Though, he yearned to tell the Black Paladin how he felt. He didn't want Curtis. He wanted Keith. His beautiful, loving, strong Keith. It was something he could never have, not with everything he's done to Keith. Leaving him alone, burning his face. He deserved better.

 

Hunk was the only one actively glaring at him, giving him a cold shoulder and a clipped tone whenever Shiro asked him anything. Pidge and Lance prattled on and on about how selfish Keith was being. Shiro felt something tug at his chest, an ache that he had been ignoring since his return from the Arena.

 

He was head over heels for Keith. 

 

There was a popping sound, and Kosmo stood in front of Shiro and Lance, growling at the former Black Paladin.

 

“What's his problem?” Lance scoffed at the wolf, moving to shoo him away. Kosmo snapped at him, growling louder.

 

The wolf seemed to  _ glare  _ at Shiro, moving forward and clamping his jaws onto the prosthetic. Shiro didn't have time to protest when they popped away, reappearing in another room. He was confused, until a gasp made him jump. Shiro's eyes widened at the scene before him.

 

Curtis, in Adam's arms. Kissing, fondling. Shiro clears his throat, and he feels delight where he thinks hurt and jealousy should be. They see him, and Shiro can see the shame creeping into their faces. He doesn't care. He pulls off the wedding ring, tossing it onto their bodies. He runs out of the room, ignoring their calls and shedding the stupid tux jacket.

 

“Kosmo, where's Keith?” Shiro looked to the wolf when he stopped running, only to find the animal growling at him. He frowned, about to ask again when he heard Hunk jogging his way, furious.

 

“I've been trying to keep quiet, I promised Keith I would but I can't fucking take it anymore.” Hunk shoved him, voice rising. “What the fuck is your problem?! He fucking loves you and you know it!”

 

“I- I know, Hunk. I love him too. Curtis and I aren't getting married. Where is Keith I need to tell him-”

 

“He left.” Hunk crossed his arms over his chest. “He wants you to take care of Kosmo…”

 

Shiro felt his heart drop to the floor. “Wh-why? Where is he going?”

 

“The Blades.” the Yellow Paladin sighed, looking at Kosmo. “We all drove him away. You were the last straw for it, I guess. He doesn't know if he's coming back.”

 

He felt the air leave his lungs, and he moved to the wall for support. Hunk just watched for a moment before sighing again. The Yellow Paladin moved towards Shiro and pulled him into a hug as he started to cry.

 

“You were too late, Shiro….”

 

\-------------------------------

 

It was a year after Keith left, and Shiro didn't think his heart could break any further than it already has.

 

The glass in his hand shattered, the world went silent around him. Someone was trying to get his attention, but all he could do was stare at the screen.

 

**_Keith Kogane presumed dead after wreckage of fighter discovered-_ **

 

Shiro slid to his knees, unable to take his eyes away as images of the fighter played across the screen. It was in pieces. Twisted metal and shattered glass. There was no way someone could survive that….

 

Something hot rolled down his cheeks, a pair of small arms wrapping tightly around him as a scream tore from his chest.

 

\-----------------------------------

 

**_3 years later…_ **

 

The clinking of glass started their annual reunion. They gathered on the Atlas this time around, taking the long trip towards one of the many resorts Coran spoke of. Shiro, was still a mess. He had moved to his own apartment outside the city, or usually just slept on the Atlas. Lance was flipping through channels on the holoscreen, trying to find a program to watch until they got to their destination.

 

“Do, do you think Keith would have liked the resort?” Pidge scooted closer to Shiro. They still hadn't fully accepted the news, still clinging to the hope that Keith was still alive. Shiro had searched. Combed the galaxies, as many planets as he could. He had to stop after a year and a half of searching, too tired and too broken to continue. He had lost weight in that time, barely slept. Lance and Allura had to beg him to stop. It ate at him. Shiro knew that Keith would never have stopped, would have kept going. He failed him. Again.

 

“Probably.” was his quiet answer. Honestly, he had no idea. Shiro never got a chance to ask Keith, never allowed himself the luxury. This was all his fault, and he would do anything to make it right-

 

“ _ Dios-  _ Shiro! Shiro get in here!” Lance was shouting, the sound of glass breaking followed the sound of him getting to his feet.

 

They all bolted to the lounge, skidding to a halt by the couch. On the holoscreen was what appeared to be a televised fight, and Shiro paled with hauntings of the Arena. But, those didn't exist anymore. The Empire was gone, these fights were just special effects to get the crowd going. Shiro cleared his throat, side glancing Lance.

 

“Lance, it's just a show-”

 

“ _ No _ . Watch. It's-” Lance gestured back to the screen, distraught.

 

Shiro frowned, but turned his attention to it. The fight seemed brutal, both contestants not showing any signs of slowing. He didn't recognize the bigger alien, but the smaller one seemed to have the advantage. It's movement was quick, probably due to the animalistic prosthetic legs it sported. Shrio caught a glimpse of a metal arm as it sunk into the chest of the other alien, yanking it back out in a spray of gore.

 

“This….this doesn't seem like special effects…” Hunk covered his mouth, still bothered with the sight of blood.

 

Shiro had to agree.

 

_ “The winner!”  _ an announcer bounded up to the winner, lifting an arm high into the air.  _ “Our very own, bloodthirsty killer! CHAMPION WOLF!” _

 

The crowd roared, but Shiro could see Wolf shaking. Now that the fight was over, they could make out light purple skin. Whoever Wolf was, he was Galra. Or at least half. Slowly, with obvious effort, Wolf lifted his head after the announcer whispered into his ear.

 

Shiro felt his heart stop. He knew those eyes, he knew that face.

 

He heard the comms go off, someone saying something about tracking the signal. He barely heard Kolivan's voice above the rushing in his ears. All he could do was stare at the face on the screen. The battle worn, broken down, exhausted face on the screen. Even with the Galra features, Shiro would know that face anywhere.

 

“Shiro we have a location.” Pidge shook him from his thoughts. “Shiro come on!”

 

He shook his head, setting his jaw and clenching his fists.

 

“Get to the Lions. Allura, ride with Lance. Suit up. We're bringing Keith home.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright round two hopefully this makes more sense.
> 
> Chapter inspired by Sleep and Dream by Battle Of Mice

The floor of his cage was as cold as it always was, but it made his injuries feel worse. His right prosthetic leg sparked and made him twitch. His last opponent managed to damage it somehow. The warden wanted to wait to fix it, till it was closer to the next fight. It annoyed him, his whole body twitching when his leg sparked into where it was attached to his thigh.

 

Wolf didn't mind the mechanical legs so much. The clawed toes got him out of a few tight spots, or, from  _ under  _ a tight spot. He shuddered at the memory, the blood and the shrieks from his opponent. As tired as he was of fighting, this was all he knew. Though, Wolf longed for freedom.

 

But where would he go if he managed to escape? Where would he hide? Who would take in a beast like him? Wolf grit his teeth as his leg spasmed and arcs of electricity shot from the damage. The metal legs were at least functional and didn't cause him too much pain, as long as they weren't busted. Unlike the damn exoskeleton on his left arm.

 

The second fight he could remember, his opponent had snapped his arm in two. The warden's decision on treatment was this...thing. It was held in place by spikes digging into his skin, some sort of device connecting it with the back of his neck where he couldn't reach. Wolf begged to have it removed, it hurt and it rubbed his flesh. This lead to punishment for back talking, crammed into a small dark space with no food or water. 

 

He was sure his arm was ok now, but it seemed to be infected again if the smell was anything to go by, and the redness where he could see his shoulder. Sometimes, if the match wasn't going the warden's way, he would activate the exoskeleton. He had no control over it after that happened.

 

Hopefully he would still have use of his arm once he got the damn thing off. If he got it off. The stupid thing was heavy and clunky.

 

_ “With this, you look like Commander Sendak's old Champion! You will carve the way for the new Empire!” _

 

Asinine, if you asked him. The druid was insane, always prattling on about this, Sendak. If this person the druid spoke so highly of needed a new champion, they must not be as great as the druid and the guards said they were. Champions were strong, unstoppable. To need a new one seemed like a far off concept to Wolf.

 

Slowly, agonizingly slow, he got up, gasping as pain laced through his muscles. Wolf carefully ran a hand over where words had been carved into what he believed to be the calf of his left leg. “Lance”, “Pidge”, “Hunk”, “Allura”, “Coran”, and for some reason “Blade”. 

 

These words must mean something, or at least he thought they did. Or were they names? Wolf wasn't sure why they were there, or who put them there. He had assumed the druid did, for some reason or another. It was hard to tell what that maniac was thinking sometimes.

 

There were some nights that Wolf felt he should know these words. That he should care for these words etched into the metal of his leg. He should know who they belonged to, what they looked like, what they sounded like. But, he couldn't fathom what the words belonged to. Or who, if they were names. There was one word, though, that he definitely felt was important.

 

Carefully, he wedged the fingers of his flesh hand into a small seam on his leg, something the warden overlooked in their construction apparently. The necklace clinked against his leg as he drew it out. The tags were worn, but the word on it meant the most to him.

 

“T. Shirogane”.

 

This word, this word made his heart swell with emotions he never thought he would feel again. Pain and happiness and heartbreak and  _ unconditional love. _ He loved this word, even if there wasn't a face he could attach to it, he loved this word. He would travel galaxies for this word if he could, the echo of “As many times as it takes” bouncing around in his skull.

 

If only he could remember where he got the tags. Did he steal them? Wolf’s never been away from this Arena, this cage. Did they belong to an opponent?

 

He huffed. It didn't matter. His hope to be free rested on these words, these names. He needed to find them, the nagging in the back of his skull probably wouldn't rest until he did.

 

Wolf gave a shuddering breath as his muscles spasmed and jolted from the damaged leg once more, the claws on the exoskeleton digging into the rough metal floor of his cage and sending pain up his arm. Yeah, something was wrong with his arm again. He considered telling the druid, but the last time his arm got infected he was put in isolation. Which had been hell. He didn't want to go back in there. He hated being alone, ironic as that was for his situation. 

 

His gaze slid to his other arm, watching the flesh lose the purple coloring. The Quintessence injection was wearing off finally. Wolf was certain there would be a long term side effect from them, his once pale flesh looked to have a lilac undertone to it now. But that could be from anything, bruises, how shitty he felt. A worry for another time.

 

The sound of heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway made him lift his head slowly. It was a struggle to get to his feet, but he managed before the door opened.

 

“Get out here, Wolf. You have a match.”

 

So soon? No healing first? Wolf sighed, this wouldn't be the first time. He was so, so tired, but he limped forward anyway. There would be consequences if he didn't, and he was in enough pain already.

 

The guards paraded him to the Arena, the other captives shouting at him.

 

“Murderer!”  _ I know…. _

 

“Animal!”  _ I know…. _

 

“You killed my friend!”  _ I know….. _

 

Wolf felt like an animal, something to be feared and locked away. He knew he had killed so many people, innocent pawns in a sick game for a psychopath. At least he wasn't muzzled anymore. The stiff leather dug into his face, he wouldn't be surprised if there were still marks from it.

 

He was stopped in front of the druid, trying his best not to flinch as the bastard raised a syringe. A rough hand gripped his hair, wrenching his head to the side as the needle was plunged into his neck. The glowing Quintessence within rushed into his veins, and Wolf gasped and choked as he felt the changes happen. His teeth grew sharper, his fingernails grew longer and pointed, the purple spread over his skin like wildfire. His chest shuddered with a ragged breath when it was over.

 

“You better win this one, Wolf. You're my Champion, show them what you're made of. Earn me more fighters worthy of the Empire.”

 

Them? As in more than one? Worthy of the Empire? Either his warden was getting carried away with the fame, or he was going to be replaced. Hell, maybe one would fatally wound him, or just give him some mercy and kill him. A fantasy, really. Wolf didn't want to die, but he wanted to be free. At this point he would take any form of it. There had to be more to life than metal walls, solid domes, and cages.

 

The gate opened, the crowd roared, and Wolf limped his way out into the Arena. Slowly, he lifted his head up enough to peer at his opponents through his overgrown bangs. There were five: two big ones, one with a slim build, a small one, and one slightly taller than the small one. It, didn't look good for him. His leg sparked again as he slid into a crouch. They had armor on. Unfair. He was armorless.

 

_ “Sendak's Champion didn't need armor, and neither do you.” _

 

Wolf was starting to think the druid had a complex. The crowd roared again, chanting his name. Better not keep them waiting.

 

He crouched lower, his leg sparking and protesting as he launched himself forward, aiming for the biggest of the five. They collided, and he managed to push the larger opponent back before the smallest one caught him in a side tackle. He launched them off into the slimmer opponent, quickly getting to his feet and going after the big one again. Take out the big ones, worry about the small ones later. They swung at him with a, floating arm? Now that was really unfair.

 

In an attempt to block the arm coming at him, Wolf raised the exoskeleton, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood so he didn't cry out in pain. He felt something warm filling the space between the metal and his skin. Great.

 

The arm connected and just held him still. He fought against it, weakly, but he fought. If he didn't the arm would activate. Agony happened when the druid activated the arm and made it move for him. Wolf didn't want that again. He screwed his eyes shut and waited.

 

But the arm didn't activate. Wolf blinked, taking a quick glance at the exoskeleton. The floating arm was still holding it, almost gently. Weird, this was weird. He looked around, the crowd was being escorted out. Also weird. People in armor and weapons walking with the crowd, the other captives being lead away by more people in armor. He caught a glimpse of the druid, in cuffs, a weapon pointed at them. What was happening?

 

His vision wavered, but his legs kept him upright.

 

Movement behind him had him freezing. The floating arm let him go, and slim fingers gently prodded at the base of his skull. What were they doing? His confusion and nausea made it impossible to react.

 

“Just, hold still ok? We're gonna get that off of you.” a female voice.

 

Wolf did as he was told, until his leg sparked and buckled, sending him to his knees with a yelp. The owner of the arm immediately knelt in front of him and held him up by the shoulders.

 

“Grab the insulated blanket. We need to stop the arcing before we can move him.” the person in front of him spoke, voice wavering.

 

He didn't move as he was bundled up in an oddly textured cloth, they kept the exoskeleton outside of the bundle though. Wolf kept his head lowered as he was situated into a sitting position, his damaged leg extended out. Maybe, maybe this was a test. A test to see if he could still follow orders. The druid has done this before too, although not this extravagant.

 

“This, looks bad. I'm going to have to deactivate your leg, ok?” the female spoke again. Wolf simply nodded. He could pass this test. A few moments later, his felt the power in his leg shut down. It was always an odd feeling, but bearable.

 

The small one moved behind him when she was done, lifting his hair up as the floating arm lifted the exoskeleton. Wolf chanced a peek at the metal arm, swallowing thickly at the viscose red leaking between the seams. The one holding it hissed at the sight.

 

“Ok, um, hold still alright?” the small one prodded at the back of his neck.

 

A click, a beeping sound, and the exoskeleton whirred. He cried out as the spikes retracted quickly. The people around him murmured apologies as the second larger one helped the slim one pull off the exoskeleton. He ignored the gasps around him, looking at his arm one it was off. It was a mess of colors: reds, purples, blacks, greens from new and healing bruises, infection and blood seeping from the wounds the metal caused.

 

His arm twitched, fingers spasming as he moved them. Clumsily, and with great effort, Wolf slowly lifted his arm, inspecting it with care. It should hurt more, but it felt numb. It should horrify him, but….

 

He felt something hot and wet trail down his cheeks. It was off, the damn thing was  _ finally off _ . Did he pass the test?

 

“Keith?”

 

His head shot up towards the owner of the floating arm, the mask to their helmet retracting. They were male, a scar across his nose. He looked sad. But why? Wolf's gaze slid down to their chest plate, and in his reflection he watched his eyes lose their yellow color. The purple was fading from his skin as well.

 

“Keith? It's- it's really you….” they sounded breathless, like they couldn't believe what they were seeing.

 

Wolf swallowed, he was thirsty. Could he even speak? When was the last time he talked to someone?

 

“.....I…” he coughed, voice rough and cracking. “...I- I don't...who's Keith..?”

 

Grey eyes widened, tears gathering in the corners. He searched their face more, hoping for answers.

 

“Did...did I pass the test?” Wolf dared to sound hopeful, he didn't want to fail. Failure meant pain.

 

The world around him spun as his stomach lurched, and he felt his eyes rolling back as his body went limp. Voices raised around him, arms lifted him up and carried him quickly to, somewhere. Wolf cracked his eyes open enough to watch the florescent lights pass above him, giving way to a bright blue...sky? Was, was that the sky? His eyes widened. He'd never been outside, this is what he was missing all this time? It was- it was  _ breathtaking. _

 

The sky disappeared, replaced with a high and bright ceiling. He had to screw his eyes shut, too bright. Wolf was laid down on something soft, and he practically melted into it. His eyelids fluttered open when gentle hands cupped his face. The man that carried him was looking down at his face, on the verge of tears once again.

 

“You're alright. We'll patch you up…” trembling thumbs smoothed the skin on his cheeks. “Y-you're home now, Keith.”

 

Home? Keith? Wolf's brow furrowed slowly. He had a home aside from his cage? He still had no idea who this “Keith” was. He grimaced at the slight pinch in his arm, annoying, but not bad. Wolf felt himself relaxing more, a heavy exhaustion settling in his chest. He wasn't sure if he passed his test or not, but sleep was more important.

 

The concept of “home” sounded nice, though.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short update. Slowly coming out of my writers block.
> 
> Hope it flows alright.
> 
> Enjoy!

Seeing Keith like this would never be easy, Shiro decided. He always looked pale, but it was worse against the starch white sheets of a hospital bed. He looked so small, too. There was still a light purple tint to his skin, a slight point to his ears. Coran said it must have been Quintessence. They had discovered syringes full of them.

 

Shiro wanted to kill the druid on the spot.

 

Kosmo was curled into Keith's side, ears back when he noticed Shiro. He sighed, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed.

 

“Still mad at me, huh?” Shiro frowned. “I didn't, I didn't know this would happen…”

 

Kosmo just stared at him, huffing softly. He felt silly talking to the wolf like he could understand human speech. But the beast was smart, always seeming to know more than what he should. He laid his head down on Keith's stomach when Krolia entered the room.

 

“I've been told he's stable.” her voice was rough, tone clipped.

 

“Yeah...managed to get the infection under control. It started to spread throughout his body. We- we aren't sure if he'll have full use of his arm..” Shiro couldn't look her in the eye. Krolia gently shooed Kosmo off the bed before taking a seat on the other side.

 

“And, his mind?” she slowly carded her fingers through the tangles in Keith's hair, frowning.

 

“Could have been shock, but Coran and Sam aren't sure…” Shiro held his head in his hands. “He- he asked me, “Who's Keith”, he didn't- he didn't even recognize me..”

 

Krolia was silent, which was worse than her yelling at him. She had done enough yelling, though, in the last transmission when he had tried to talk to Keith.

 

Shiro couldn't take the silence.

 

“This...this is my fault. I did this. I  _ always  _ do this to him. I just wanted him to be safe and happy and-” Shiro gripped his hair with his flesh hand. “All I've done is hurt him-”

 

“Enough. Wallowing will not help my son.” Krolia stood, walking around the bed to stand next to Shiro, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I'm not sure  _ why  _ you never gave him the conversation he deserved, but if you want him to forgive you, you need to forgive yourself.”

 

The silence she left in her wake was deafening.

 

\--------------------------

 

Wolf was slow to wake up, confused as to why he was oddly warm and comfortable. He cracked his eyes open to see a white ceiling and dim lights. He's never been this comfortable before, was never allowed the luxury. He wiggles his toes, finding only his left leg was functional. Wolf frowned, testing his right leg again. Nothing. He swallowed his panic, taking a deep breath. There was weight on his thigh, his leg was still there. Just powered down. It was alright.

 

He slowly lifted his right arm, studying it. There was some gauze, tubes, but he carefully flexed his fingers. He could move it, and that was good. Wolf attempted to move his left arm, and winced. It didn't feel heavy, but it was numb. Like his arm was full of static. He tried again, huffing his frustration. He slowly lifted his head to look at his arm, swallowing thickly. His arm was covered in gauze, more than the right arm. It had more tubes in it as well. Wolf tried to move his fingers, only succeeding in making them twitch.

 

“I see you're awake. Relax, you're sedated.”

 

Wolf startled at the voice, eyes snapping to the man standing next to him. His eyes looked over the red hair, odd markings on his cheeks, the mustache. He must be a doctor. One he's never seen before. What was the druid planning?

 

“You have quite the infection, lad. How are you feeling?” the man checked the tubes, and the bags they connected to.

 

Wolf was quiet for a moment. This must be part of the test. Did- did they want honest answers? Should he lie?

 

“...m-m'fine..” Wolf decided on a lie, see where that gets him. The man gave him a look, but his mustache quirked up a bit.

 

“You don't need to lie to me, Keith. It's alright. You can tell me the truth.”

 

He blinked. There was that name again. Keith. Wolf frowned.

 

“W-who is….Keith?” Wolf tried to sit up again. “I-I don't-”

 

“It's alright, it's alright.” the man frowned, a shine to his eyes now. “Can you tell me your name?”

 

“Wolf.” his answer was immediate. Pain happened if he didn't tell someone his name right away.

 

The man looked at him, seeming to be deep in thought, before nodding slowly. “Alright, Wolf. My name is Coran. I'm going to check your left arm. Is that alright?”

 

Wolf blinked again. He...had a choice? What was this? The druid  _ never  _ gave him a choice. He could feel panic grip his chest. It was a trap, and he knew it. So he simply nodded, setting his jaw.

 

Coran looked him over again, moving to his left arm without a word and began to carefully unwind the gauze. Wolf kept his eyes on the ceiling, but found himself slowly looking towards his arm. His eyes widened at the reddened bandages. Coran lifted his arm, gently bending his elbow and wrist, fingers last.

 

“Still a bit stiff, but with some physical therapy after you heal should get some motion back.” Coran smiled at him, fixing the tubes and wrapping fresh gauze on his arm.

 

“H...how long- how long until my next fight?” Wolf had to ask, he wanted to be prepared if the druid wouldn't let him heal enough. Though, it seemed his question caught Coran off guard.

 

“Kei- er, Wolf, you don't have to fight anymore. You will  _ not  _ be going back to that place, and you  _ never  _ have to go back to that druid.”

 

Wolf felt his eyes widen. “Wh-what do mean…? Wait- wait did he sell me again?”

 

“Sell you? Why-”

 

“Pl-please, I'll be good. Don't take my legs I'll be good-”

 

“Lad, lad calm down.” Coran placed a hand on his chest as he reached into a pocket, producing a syringe. Wolf froze, eyes locking onto the needle, and he keened.

 

“Not again! Please, not again it hurts the injections hurt I'll be good-”

 

Coran murmured an apology, injecting the contents into the tube leading into his arm. Wolf felt his eyes become heavy, a broken whine leaving his throat as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

 

The Altean gave a trembling sigh, pushing Keith's hair from his face. He glanced up to see Shiro standing near the door, stricken.

 

The damage was far worse than they could have imagined.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....I may have made Hunk a little mean in this, especially with Shiro, but I wanted to write how Hunk (who really was the only one Keith had a meaningful conversation with in my opinion) would handle this particular scenario. Don't worry, they'll all have a good talk.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Twitter: @kibathecryptid 
> 
> Tumblr: kibamakara

Hunk ran a hand over his face as he walked towards the infirmary, a tool kit in his other hand. Coran requested for him and Pidge to try and either repair Keith's leg, or work on creating a new set for him. But Pidge refused to come with him, saying she couldn't handle seeing Keith like that. He didn't blame her, necessarily, but they  _ all  _ needed to be there for Keith. Lance was still in denial, spewing nonsense about Keith faking it all, that he left them high and dry. They were all hurt when Keith left, sure, but Hunk knew why he left in the first place.

 

And Shiro was being the biggest coward out of all of them.

 

He refused to talk about it after Keith had woken up, sulking around the Atlas and avoiding the infirmary at all costs. Hunk wanted to throttle him, but he also knew it wouldn't make a difference.

 

The doors to the infirmary slid open, and Hunk was greeted to the sight of Coran slowly moving Keith's left arm around to stretch the weakened muscles.

 

“Ah, Hunk my boy, just in time.” Coran glanced up. “He just woke up.”

 

Keith looked up when Hunk moved closer, a confused frown pulling on his face. The Yellow Paladin wanted to start crying right then and there.

 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Hunk set the tool box next to Keith, crouching down to inspect the damage on his leg.

 

“M'fine…” Keith flinched when Coran moved his arm back. “I- I mean, could be better.”

 

“Understandable. You've been through a lot, Keith. I'm going to see if we can get the material to replace your legs-” Hunk looked up, frowning at the fear etched into Keith's face.

 

“Why do you keep calling me “Keith”? That's not- I don't know who that is..” he winced again as Coran wrapped his arm back up. “And- I don't want my legs replaced.”

 

Hunk and Coran shared a look, and the Yellow Paladin took in Keith's appearance. The Quintessence injections left his skin with the slightest tint of purple, and it gave the sclera of his eyes a twinge of yellow, like he had jaundice. Maybe he did, his health was poor. Overall, he almost looked like a ghost, something ethereal.

 

“The druid called you Wolf, right?” Hunk kept his words careful, continuing when Keith nodded. “Well, you're never going back to how you were. This is a fresh start. A new name can work wonders, ya know?”

 

Keith blinked, seeming to work this information over in his head. Hunk was patient, maybe if they could start calling him “Keith” instead of “Wolf”, it would help his memory. Get him back to the Keith they all knew.

 

“I….have a choice..?” His voice was so small, and he hunched his shoulders like the option would be ripped away from him.

 

“Of course, lad.” Coran placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

 

“.....I- I like Keith better…” he gave Hunk a hopeful look, and it almost broke his heart. “Is- is that my name?”

 

He sounded like a child, small and afraid and hurt. Hunk smiled at him, patting the metal of his calf. “Yup, that's your name. Better than Wolf, right?”

 

Keith nodded slowly, the fear coming back into his eyes when Hunk started observing the damage on his leg. “Don't-”

 

“Hey, it's ok, you're alright. I'm an engineer, I'm just going to repair the damage and talk to you about replacements. That's all. I'm not going to do anything else.” Hunk didn't move his hands, remembering what Coran had told him when he first mentioned repairing Keith's leg. Keith was afraid of his legs being taken away, used as some sort of sick punishment if he misbehaved.

 

“I- I don't want them replaced…” Keith's voice was a little stronger now, but they could hear the sadness in the undertones.

 

“Well, the technology looks way outdated, Keith. I'm not sure where the druid got the parts, or if he was even the one that built them, but they're seriously lacking anything useful to you.” Hunk kept eye contact. “Do you just like the style? We can make the new ones look any way you want them to.”

 

Keith hesitated, but slowly moved his left leg so Hunk could see it better. The light caught in the groves on the names etched into the metal, their names. Hunk's eyes widened, gaze shooting up to Keith's face. Keith reached over with his good hand, digging around in a seam and pulling out a necklace. The Yellow Paladin recognized it immediately. They were Shiro's old dog tags, ones that Keith never,  _ ever _ , took off.

 

“I...I don't want to lose these words. They- they mean  _ something, _ I know they do. I just- I just can't remember…” Keith's bottom lip trembled, and he took a deep breath to calm himself.

 

Hunk ran his fingers over their names, swallowing his emotions. He steeled his nerves, and came up with an ultimatum.

 

“How about I put them on another set of tags, like these? That way you'll never lose them. How does that sound?” Hunk smiled at him again, but it was strained. “And we can talk about replacement prosthetics later.”

 

Keith perked up a little, and nodded. Hunk carefully worked on his damaged leg, frowning when the sparks became more frequent. He decided to patch it as best as he could, and wrapped both legs in insulated tape so the shocks wouldn't harm Keith.

 

“I'll go work on those tags, yeah? Do you want me to polish that one up?” Hunk pointed to Shiro's tags, staying patient as Keith hesitated again. He eventually nodded, handing them over to Hunk. He waited until Coran got Keith resettled, and he was fast asleep before they reached the doors.

 

“C-Coran-” Hunk choked on a sob, hand tightening around the tags and the handle of his tool box.

 

“I know, lad, I know. The druid must have done more damaged to his mind than we thought. It seems he is unable to make a connection between our faces and our names…” the Altean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I'm- I'm not sure how we can help, but I will do my best.”

 

They passed the others on the way to Hunk's workroom, and the Yellow Paladin glared at them when they approached.

 

“Hunk? Coran? What's wrong? Is Keith-” Shiro swallowed, raising a hand towards Hunk.

 

“He's about as fine as he can be.” Hunk snapped at him. “You would know if you would check on him.”

 

“Hunk, buddy-” Lance starter, but Hunk wasn't having any of it.

 

“He has our names etched into his leg.” That got them all pausing, eyes wide. “I'm going to make him dog tags so he feels more comfortable with the replacement prosthetics.”

 

Shiro stepped forward, mouth open like he was about to say something, but Hunk held up his hand and showed him the dog tags. He's never seen the color drain so quickly from Shiro's face.

 

“He kept them, hid them in a seam in his leg so they wouldn't be taken away.” Hunk frowned, glaring harder at Shiro. “They're important to him.”

 

Hunk sighed when the shine in Shiro's eyes threatened to spill. This was hard for all of them, but if Shiro had just  _ talked  _ to Keith, gave him that conversation Keith had desperately wanted and tried his damn best to get, maybe things would have been different. Maybe Keith wouldn't have left, wouldn't have lost three years of his life trapped in some hell and forced to fight.

 

“I, I need to get started on these tags. Just- I don't know, you can either join me or keep sulking.” Hunk turned and walked away before he lost his composure. Footsteps followed, though he wasn't sure how many. A hand on his shoulder slowed him down.

 

“I- Hunk, I, maybe we-” Shiro swallowed thickly, jaw clenching before he spoke again. “Maybe, we all need to have that talk-”

 

Hunk looked him over, brow furrowing, but he nodded. It was about time they all had a talk. They've drifted apart for far too long.

 

They needed to come back together, of not for themselves, but for Keith.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be a bit choppy, but hopefully it flows.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Twitter: @kibathecryptid 
> 
> Tumblr: kibamakara

The room was quiet while Hunk worked on etching the new dog tags, with Shiro sitting close by and eyeing his old ones. Hunk wouldn't let him touch them, but Shiro understood why. When the sound of the tool shut off so Hunk could polish it, Shiro spoke up.

 

“Can- can I help?” His voice was soft, thick with emotion. He grimaced when Hunk glared at him, but the Yellow Paladin handed him the finished tags and a cloth.

 

“It just needs polished.” Hunk grabbed Shiro's old tags and began to buff the tarnish off.

 

Shiro stared at the tags, sighing as he started to polish them. The others were sat around the two, with Lance working in a sketchbook while Allura leaned against him, talking in quiet tones as the pencil moved. Pidge was sitting on Lance's other side, watching carefully and also adding her two cents every now and then.

 

“I….I'm sorry…” Shiro stopped polishing, staring down at the tags. “I'm sorry..”

 

Hunk didn't look up, but the others did.

 

“What are you sorry for?” Lance blinked, hand pausing on his sketch.

 

Shiro took a deep breath, keeping his eyes on the tags. “I'm, the reason Keith left in the first place…”

 

“What does that mean? How did you make him leave?” Pidge scoffed, but the look on Shiro's face made her pause.

 

“He, loves- loved me. He loved me, and I just, pushed him away.” He sniffled, gripping the tags tightly in his flesh hand. “I couldn't- I couldn't love him back. Not after everything that happened, after hurting him like I did-”

 

“Whoa, Shiro slow down-” Lance set his book down, they were all staring at Shiro. Except for Hunk, who was still buffing out the tags.

 

“The clone, er, me? Kuron? I'm not sure, the memories all meshed together. But...I burned his face at the clone facility. I-” Shiro's face crumpled, and he leaned forward to hold his head in his hands. “I chose Curtis, because I couldn't let myself love Keith back.”

 

“That's why he left? Because you couldn't sort out your fucking feelings?!” Pidge got up, pushing on Shiro's shoulders hard enough to scoot him back in the chair. “Are you  _ FUCKING  _ serious?!”

 

Shiro just looked at her, the shine in his eyes overflowing down his cheeks.

 

“We  _ blamed  _ him for so long-” Lance started, but Hunk slammed his hands onto the table, making them all jump.

 

“We never gave him the chance! I did, I finally did after weeks of watching him sulk. We actually  _ talked,  _ something the rest of you never gave him the courtesy of doing!” Hunk didn't turn in his seat, hunched over the table. “We  _ all  _ drove him away. He couldn't stand the rejection anymore, and Shiro was the last straw.”

 

“He told me he tried, he tried so hard to start a conversation, tried to apologize. No one else but me even listened.” Hunk finally turned, pinning them all with a furious look they've never seen on him before. “We were all supposed to be family. What kind of family does something like this? We were all he had for the longest time…”

 

Hunk sighed, pushing away from the table and taking the tags from Shiro. “You all can figure out what you're going to do. I'm just, done fighting, done arguing, done pulling away from each other. It's not going to help Keith.”

 

“Wait-” Lance got up, grabbing his sketchbook and following Hunk.

 

“What? I need to get with Matt about Keith's prosthetics-” Hunk turned, a deep frown still pulled on his face.

 

“I uh, we're ahead of you on that…” Lance handed him the book, filled with various styles and versions of prosthetic legs with little notes next to them. “Shiro drew them, I just- added color..”

 

“And Pidge and I helped with the functions and details..” Allura clasped her hands in front of her, avoiding eye contact and looking as sheepish as Hunk's ever seen her.

 

The Yellow Paladin raised an eyebrow, looking over the sketches. They mostly looked like normal human legs, save for the overall design and color scheme. They could work, but only if Keith liked them.

 

“Keith will have to chose. Apparently, that druid would take his legs as punishment. I've got some ideas of my own…” Hunk nodded towards Matt's workshop, letting Shiro and the others follow him.

 

“Hunk, what-” Shiro took a deep breath. “He doesn't remember us, how can- how am I supposed to talk to him?”

 

“You need to ask? Shiro, you two were so close. Just talk to him, he's still Keith in there-” Hunk paused when Kinkade jogged up to them.

 

“Admiral Shirogane, sir.” Ryan saluted quickly. “We have a situation.”

 

Shiro frowned. “What kind of situation?”

 

Kinkade shifted on his feet, taking a deep breath. “We don't have the druid. Who we thought was the druid was a prisoner in disguise-”

 

“What? How?” Pidge glared at Ryan. “How the fuck-”

 

“I've been told it was a glamor? The prisoner is catatonic, we're trying to get them responsive.” Kinkade motioned for Shiro to follow him. “One of the survivors is awake. He wants to talk.”

 

Shiro followed Kinkade to the lower decks of the Atlas. It was technically where they would hold criminals, but with so many survivors from the druid's arena, they had no other choice. Plus, they had decided to keep them separated from Keith.

 

They had outfitted every cell like a makeshift infirmary, trying to make it as comfortable as they could. The survivors understood, thankful that they had been saved by the Defenders of the Universe.

 

Kinkade stopped in front of one of the rooms, an angry voice coming from within, and a calmer voice soothing it. Shiro entered the room, Krolia and Kolivan were standing next to the bed where one of the survivors lay. An older alien, worn and exhausted, but one of the least malnourished out of all of them.

 

“Father, that- that beast is still alive-” the other alien, younger in appearance, glares up at Kolivan as he speaks.

 

“Quiet, boy. You know as well as I do that he had no choice.” He looked up when Shiro entered the room, expression unchanging. “Is it true? Wolf is the leader of Voltron?”

 

Shiro steeled himself, nodding. “His real name is Keith Kogane, and yes, he's the Black Paladin.”

 

The alien's son quiets down, sitting back into his chair, looking shocked. His father pats him on the leg.

 

“My name is Floxxan.” The alien on the bed sits up, wincing. “Please forgive my son, we have witnessed many die at the hands of the druid. How, how is he?”

 

“He's…” Shiro sighed. “He's stable, but he doesn't remember anything before he was captured.”

 

Floxxan shook his head. “The druid wanted to break him. I was the one that created his prosthetics, but I didn't see him until he was on the precipice of losing himself.”

 

“But, why? What was the druid's plan?” Shiro sat in one of the chairs, Krolia looking on next to Kolivan.

 

“He is obsessed with bringing glory to that witch, Haggar, with creating a new Champion to help being the Empire back into power.” Floxxan huffed. “An asinine plan. Wolf, er, Keith was the only one that survived the experiments.”

 

“We were in charge of trying to keep them alive.” The son spoke up, head hung. “But...Wolf didn't come to us until much later. He was losing it, couldn't remember his name. He begged us to etch names into his legs.” He looked up. “I assume they were yours?”

 

Shiro nodded slowly, clenching his fists hard enough to make the knuckles on his flesh hand pop.

 

“The druid did what he could to break him, but his will is strong. He tried his best to resist, to stop killing, but…” Floxxan rubbed the back of his head with a weary sigh. “The punishments were far worse than the reward. Mind tricks, isolation, food withheld for extended periods. I  _ always  _ tried to convince that madman that his ways would not give him a proper Champion, he never listened.”

 

“We heard the druid escaped. Is this true?” His son grimaced when Kolivan nodded. “Cunning bastard…”

 

“As much as we would love to help, we are tired, sir.” Flaxxon leaned back in his bed, closing his eyes. “He, will be safe with you, yes?”

 

“Of course. Nothing will happen to him again.” Shiro set his shoulders, getting to his feet and making his way back to the upper decks. He needed to talk to the team, make a game plan to either capture the druid or take Keith far enough the way so he couldn't be found.

 

On his way up, Kosmo popped in next to him, whining softly. Shiro reached for him, hesitant, but smiled when the wolf bumped his muzzle into his hand.

 

“Good boy…” Shiro curled his fingers into Kosmo's fur gently. “Let's go see how Keith's doing.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if I miss any tags


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